


The Trials and Tribulations of Officer America

by Renai_chan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Humor, I am not American, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, so ignore my ignorance of the law, tiny bit of crack, various minor (i think) offenses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve signed up for the NYPD, he'd expected to be putting criminals behind bars.</p>
<p>Not his own teammates.</p>
<p>5+1 where the Avengers get taken in for various infractions.</p>
<p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4097377">Officer America</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruce

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so admittedly, I had been a shit writer for the past month. And to think _I was doing so well!_ Ten fics in the last six months, one of them a huge chaptered fic which I was _so proud to have finished_. And then nada. Zilch. Goddamned writer's block.
> 
> I blame it on Kingsman: The Secret Service and on [MoMoMomma](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma) who wrote two incredible one-shots for the fandom, and I got horribly, horribly hooked. I needed to write a fic or ten on it, but then I am not used to British English, so my writing kind of got hung up on that, and I couldn't write Stony because I was hung up on Kingsman, and damn, I need to get my act together.
> 
> Admittedly this fic is cheating, because I'd already written it a while back, but hadn't gotten around to finishing it. It's supposed to be a one-shot, but I'll post it in chapters instead to give me a chance to finish up the parts I hadn't yet finished.
> 
> Anyway, before the note becomes longer than the fic (and note to self: author's notes are not diary entries. Sheesh!), here it is. Enjoy!
> 
> (Oh and one last thing. Disclaimer: As I am not American, I have no idea of what offenses bring what kinds of charges. So yeah, if the punishment doesn't fit the crime, _just go with it_.)

Steve suddenly looked up from his paperwork, carefully listening for another glimpse of a familiar sound that had crossed his hearing until he heard it again.

He knew that voice.

In an instant, he was on his feet because few things would draw that voice _here_ and most of them weren’t good things. He glanced around to find the source of it, and on being unable to find it, started to the front of the station where he found him--Bruce--talking with the officers nervously. 

And he had right to be nervous, apparently, because he had handcuffs slapped around his wrist.

"Bruce?" They all turned to him, and he lifted his eyebrows in question.

"I--I..." Bruce stammered and then shrugged.

"We found him with eight ounces of pot in his possession," the arresting officer, Morales, gestured to the baggie resting on the desk, and Steve's eyes balked.

"Pot?!" he gaped, then, realizing what Morales said, very nearly screeched, “ _Eight ounces_?!”.

"It isn't mine, Cap! I swear!" Bruce cried. “I was meeting up with someone who had it on him--but I swear I didn’t know he had it!--and when the cops came along, he threw it at me and ran!” Then the booking officer, Santos, held up an unlit joint.

"And they found this, too," he added, and Steve turned to Bruce for an explanation.

"I... Well, that may have been mine. But it's medical, Cap I swear!"

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and lifted an eyebrow. "Medical?" he asked, disbelieving.

"It helps me... Relax?" Bruce said. Steve's eyebrow remained raised because on the one hand, anything that could keep Bruce calm was a good thing. On the other, Bruce wasn't the kind of person who'd fly off the handle without provocation; he'd hardly be able to light a joint in instances of said provocation. Bruce let out a heavy breath, then muttered loudly, "This is all Tony's fault."

Suddenly, the station's entire PA system screamed, "Bruce Banner is a lying liar who lies!" in a voice that was clearly Tony's.

Steve pressed fingers to the bridge of his nose when the entire department turned their way, most of the officers piling into the doorways for a better look, while Bruce spluttered.

"Liar?! Me?!" he shouted back. "Who the fuck sent me to a 'relaxation expert' that turned out to be a damn _pot dealer_?!"

"Don't you believe him, Steve! I had nothing but good intentions!" Tony declared.

"He told me he was your pot dealer back in '86!" Bruce said with a hysterical laugh. "He says you slept with him! He knows about that birthmark on your ass! You tell me those are lies!"

"Lies!" Tony answered without hesitation, but by now even Steve knew he was lying. He did have that birthmark on his ass. Bruce spluttered again, and Steve saw the signs of anger in him.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Steve grabbed the joint, lit it with the accompanying lighter, and shoved it in Bruce's mouth. The surprise startled him back from rage, and three puffs in, he was a lot calmer. That settled, Steve turned to the nearest camera and bellowed, "Tony, I cannot _believe_ you’d do this to Bruce. To Bruce!”

“But Steve--”

“Clint, I’d understand. Though don’t get me wrong I don’t _condone_. But you know better than to make Bruce mad.” 

“Steve--”

“Save it, Tony.” Steve sighed loudly and added, “You and I are going to have a _discussion_ about this when I get home."

“Steve, wait. I--” 

A pause. 

“Are you gonna bring the handcuffs?”

Shouts and catcalls and whoops erupted around the station, and Steve’s face burst into flames. He ignored the nudges and the kissy faces and the handcuffs thrown his way, and instead barked at Santos, “Book both of them for community service. A hundred hours each. And let Bruce go. I’ll clear it with the chief.”

“What? Community service?! Steve!!” Tony whined.

“JARVIS, get Tony off the air. _Please_ ,” Steve sighed, rubbing at his forehead. He didn’t get headaches or migraines anymore, but at this point, Tony was pushing it.

“JARVIS, don’t you--” The line was cut and Steve breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to see Bruce finishing off the last of the joint, handcuff free.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, a wide, pleased smile on his face.

“Yes, well. Stop letting Tony talk you into these things,” Steve answered, shooing him out of the door. He let out a deep breath and turned back to see the entire station grinning expectantly at him. “Don’t you all have work to do?” he snapped. They only laughed.


	2. Clint

“Hey, Rogers!”

Steve looked up to see Officer Adams calling for him across the cubicles. Other heads turned his way then to Steve, as they often did when he was called, but after nine months of him on the job, his name no longer held the novelty it once did, so most of those turned back immediately to their own work. 

“Yeah?” he asked.

“We’ve got a 10-39Q on Brooklyn Bridge. The chief wants you on the case.”

“Brooklyn Bridge? That’s not in our area,” he pointed out, but he wasn’t one to turn down orders, so he was already pulling on his jacket and tucking his gun in his holster. Adams grinned.

“Yeah, well, the 84th called in a favor,” he answered. “They think you’d be better able to deal with clowns swinging from suspension cables.” Steve froze. 

Then groaned.

“Does the clown, by any chance, have blonde hair, huge arms, and sometimes a bow and arrow?” he asked. Adams only laughed and ducked out of the office area. Steve shook his head and slapped the shoulder of his cubicle buddy. “Come on, rookie. I might need your help.”

“Rookie?!” Sam spluttered indignantly seconds before he pulled on his own jacket. Steve grinned. 

He’d convinced Sam to join the department three months back, saying, if nothing, he needed a partner that could keep up with him. But it had been mostly quiet since he’d joined, so Steve didn’t let up on the teasing about how he hadn’t experienced his first big assignment yet. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Sam seemed to be enjoying it so far between VA meetings and almost nothing else.

“Yeah, come on. This may be your breakthrough case.” Steve ducked out of Sam’s punch and hid behind Officer Nash who rolled her eyes.

“Boys,” she muttered without pausing on her way.

“I will shoot his damn ass if it gets you to let up on the damn rookie jokes, asshole,” Sam shot back and held out his hand. “Keys,” he demanded. Steve held them out of his reach, to which Sam lifted an eyebrow.

“No. I’m the senior officer; I get to drive,” Steve protested.

“Rogers, you either drive like the ninety-year old you are or like Clint in battle, both of which are not getting us to the bridge in a safe and timely manner. Give. Me. The. Keys!” Steve laughed and threw them over. Sam caught them neatly and climbed into the driver’s seat before Steve could change his mind.

“I get to drive next time, though,” Steve said as he climbed into the passenger seat. Sam ignored him which meant ‘No fucking way’ loud and clear, and they were on their way.

Steve dialed Natasha who picked up in three rings.

“Yes, it’s him. No, he’s not drunk. Yes, it was a dare. Yes, Tony dared him. And no, I am not helping you. Shoot him down for all I care. I am at the spa.”

She hung up before Steve could get in a word edgewise. He laughed a bit in bemusement, but he had gotten all he needed to know anyway, so it was really just a matter of getting Clint down now.

A crowd had gathered around the Northern tower, backing up southbound traffic for a few blocks, so Steve and Sam left the cruiser by a coffee shop and jogged all the way up to the front where he could see a speck of human twirling around one of the cables a cool hundred meters up. The crowd was oohing and aahing and at times screaming when Clint executed a jump between cables, but Steve had seen him do worse, and so he was barely fazed.

“How long has he been up there?” he asked the two officers from the 84th. They shrugged.

“Almost an hour now? We got here maybe half an hour before you did,” the smaller one answered. Steve sighed.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll take care of this.” He stepped away from the crowd and drew in a deep breath. 

“CLINTON FRANCIS BARTON!” he bellowed as loud as he could to be heard a hundred feet up over the spectators. “YOU WILL GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR I WILL BENCH YOU FOR THE NEXT THREE MONTHS!”

“Cap?” Clint turned to see him. He was upside down. When he saw them, he waved broadly and enthusiastically. “Oh hey, Cap! Hi, Sam!” His voice was softened by the wind carrying the sound away, but Steve didn’t need his supersoldier senses to hear it.

“COME DOWN, CLINT. I _WILL_ BENCH YOU. DO NOT TRY ME!” 

“We haven’t done anything as a team in the past three months anyway. I don’t think the next three would be any different. That is not a threat, Cap,” came Clint’s answer.

“I’LL GET NATASHA DOWN HERE TO COME GET YOU, THEN,” Steve answered. Clint’s laugh filtered down to his level.

“Nice try, Cap, but Natasha would skin you alive before she’d come down here to put me back in line.” Steve groaned in annoyance. 

It’s not that Clint was maliciously disobedient, but only that it amused him being so. Once upon a time, it had annoyed Steve to no end, but like with Tony, now Steve had come to tolerate it with amusement. 

But not _now_ now.

“Hey, Tony, man? Where are you right now?” he heard Sam say. He looked to see him on the phone, and he held up a ‘one moment’ gesture. “Yeah, you in the suit?” he asked, and Steve narrowed his eyes. “Okay, well, I need you down by the Brooklyn Bridge, North tower in about five seconds. Think fast!” Steve was about to ask what he meant when Sam pulled his gun out and shot at Clint.

The crowd gasped and Steve nearly decked Sam when Clint fell, but Clint was laughing as he did as though freefalling to his death was something he did everyday. It was certainly something he had done in the last three missions they had. He even put his hands behind his neck and reclined into them until, about twenty feet from going splat on the sidewalk, Iron Man grabbed him and swung him into a gentle stop three feet above the air. Steve’s heart crept back down into his chest as Tony dumped Clint the rest of the way into a laughing heap at Steve’s feet.

“Someone order an idiot archer? Because let me tell you, he’s not worth the money you paid for him,” Tony said through the mask.

“Hey!” Clint flicked a rock at his face. “ _You_ dared me!” Steve let out an aggrieved sigh and wrestled Clint to his feet. To the surprise of all, he wrenched Clint’s arms behind his back and slapped handcuffs on them. “Wait, Cap--What?”

“You’re under arrest for trespassing and causing delays on a major highway. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say--” He was cut off when Tony and Sam both burst out laughing. Clint gaped at him in indignant disbelief.

“You’re _arresting_ me?” he demanded.

“Right now, I am an officer, and you’re a civilian, so yes. Yes, I am arresting you, Clint,” Steve answered, urging him forward, away from the street while the other officers shuffled the spectators away and guided the traffic jam free. Tony’s laughs were uproarious, so Steve stabbed a finger at him. “Community service, Stark. Tomorrow. Bright and early.” That stopped his laughs. His faceplate flipped up.

“Steve! What? What, Steve? Steve, you can’t do this to me! I didn’t do _anything_! Steeeve!!” he whined. Sam chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“The toilets at the station do need cleaning, Stark,” he said, and Tony shot him a glare, flipped him off, and jetted away. Steve sighed again.

“Why is this my life?” he asked the heavens.

“Maybe it wants you to take the stick out of your ass? I mean I don’t know how Stark fits in there with--” Steve slapped the back of Clint’s head to shut him up.

“You’re a criminal right now, Clint. You should probably take the good advice of the Miranda warning,” he said. Sam nudged him with his shoulder.

“I told you I’d shoot his ass,” he said smugly.


	3. Thor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made no additional progress on this. No progress at all. Ugh!
> 
> Here, have another chapter anyway. *sigh*

Steve knew the second Thor showed up at the station. His booming voice was not one that went unheard.

When he walked out to sort it out with the others--after all, it wasn't good a good idea to simply arrest visiting royalty from warrior planets without seeing to all the nuances of it, no matter how friendly they were, no matter how well deserved the arrest--he turned right back around and hoped Thor hadn't seen him. The Chief can sort this out himself.

Unfortunately, Thor called out a cheery "Captain!"

Steve froze, then sighed and turned back to Thor. "Why are you naked, Thor?" he asked, heavy disapproval and why-me? in his tone.

"I assure you I am not, Captain. I do understand the modesty of this planet with regards to your younglings." And to demonstrate such modesty, he threw off the shock blanket (Steve recognized it as one all policers cruisers carried) wrapped around his waist to reveal red briefs. All heads turned their way and half the officers out back--male and female alike--piled into the doorways. One civilian being charged for drug possession wolf whistled, so Steve jabbed a warning finger in his direction.

Then he turned back to Thor and took a deep breath. Very gently, he asked, "Why were you running around New York in briefs?" Thor looked vaguely offended.

He pouted. "I wasn't running, Captain. The artisans down in Central Park asked to replicate my image with their craft, and I dutifully offered to sit for them." Steve threw a glance at Officer Evans who shrugged.

"There were kids around. It's not public indecency, technically, but I had to invite him down to the station." And yeah, Steve understood that, but--

"And his clothes?"

Evans shrugged. "We didn't see any."

"I gave them to a wandering vagabond. He looked in dire need of help," Thor declared proudly.

Steve sighed again. "Thank you, Evans. I'll get someone down here to sort it out." Evans nodded and walked back out. To Thor, Steve said, "Come on. I might have something that may fit you."

It didn't and frankly looked hilarious, but it was much better than the blanket he'd been sporting. He sat Thor down at his desk while he was on the phone with Tony.

“You wear shirts two sizes too small for you, babe. Thor’s easily three sizes bigger than whatever you gave him.”

“My shirts fit perfectly fine! Natasha says so, she helps me pick them out!”

“Of course they do, honey.” Tony’s voice sound entirely too placating. “And on that note, remind me to buy Natasha flowers. Or a flower shop… Jewelry, maybe?”

Steve sighed. “Just please come down to pick him up. And bring him a change of clothes, too.”

“If I have to escape Pepper’s schedule for me, you should have left him in the briefs,” Tony answered. He was such a faker; he’d grasp any excuse to get out of the office. It was the only reason Steve called him up in the first place. True enough, he could hear a ‘Where are you going, Tony?’ in the background before the ding of an elevator and a ‘Tony!’ 

A tiny bit of guilt nagged at him for making Pepper’s day a little bit harder, but Tony had been working much too hard in the past few weeks. He deserved a tiny break.

“No, Tony,” Steve answered, hiding his grin behind a sigh.

“I’m just saying I deserve a little reward for having to put up with your teammates’ antics.”

“Oh, they’re _my_ teammates now? What about last week when Bruce helped develop that transplantable bioengineered mouse forelimb and you called him _your_ teammate? Why are they only mine when they’re in trouble?”

“Well, see I’m the fun parent and you’re the strict one. That’s how it works, Stevie. That’s why we’re a great team!” Steve could almost _see_ the grin in his tone.

“Hey, I’m fun!” Steve protested. “I’m only the strict parent because no one else will be, but I can be the fun one, too!” He ignored how ridiculous referring to them as ‘parents’ sounded, but only because he wanted to make a point. He caught Sam’s eye and narrowed his own at him.

“Fun? You won’t even concede to an itty bitty threesome!”

“No threesomes, Tony!” Tony’s laughter in his ear temporarily masked the silence around him, but soon enough, he found the entire station frozen and staring at him in varying stages of shock, disbelief, and amusement. Fuck, had he said that too loud?

“How many panties just dropped?” Tony asked, still laughing. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Ten. As many as the hours of community service you just landed.”

“What?!” Tony cried. “Community--How is that even legal? This is an abuse of the law, Steve. You are an abusive officer, and I will not stand for it!”

“Disrespecting an officer of the law is a serious offense, Tony. Be glad my good standing with the department whittled it down to ten,” Steve answered smugly.

“But ten hours?! My knees’ll be killing me by the time I’m done servicing--” Tony faked a cough, and Steve blushed. “-- _serving_ the community.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve snapped when Tony started laughing again, but he, too, was smiling widely. “Just come down and get Thor. I’ll see you in a bit.”


	4. Natasha

Steve froze in his tracks just as he stepped foot into the station and caught sight of the frankly alarming scene in front of him. The hand gripping the shoulder of the guy he’d just arrested, a small time drug dealer, tightened fractionally, but the man suddenly whined in pain, startling Steve out of his reverie. He quickly stepped through the doors, just before Sam, who whistled low under his breath.

Natasha was sitting _on_ the front desk, right next to the various log books and writing implements the booking officer used and on top of some, looking oddly regal on her perch. Her hands were pinned together by handcuffs, but she looked comfortable in them, even when her clothes were ripped, she was bleeding in various places, and her temple was growing an impressive bruise. Around her were various officers, criminals, and civilians, listening to her raptly--what she was saying, Steve didn’t know because she stopped as soon as she caught sight of him immediately when he stepped through the doors.

“Bar chair,” she said, pointing to her bruise as if that was the greatest of Steve’s concerns, not the fact that she looked like death warmed over when she hadn’t just come off a mission.

“Did Phil send you out?” he asked. Natasha sighed.

“Bar fight,” she said by way of explanation. Steve laughed. It may have sounded a bit hysterical and confused by the way everyone was looking at him, but _bar fight_? Natasha could take down a group of alien invaders with nary a scratch and _bar fight_?

“Bar fight,” Officer Michaels confirmed with a nod. Steve blinked at him, then at her, and for the longest time he said nothing while he tried to understand.

“I think you broke Steve,” Sam whispered loudly. Natasha smirked.

“And then, what? You let him catch you?” Steve asked, ignoring Sam. Natasha threw a glance in Michael's direction and gave him a flirty wink. Steve wondered if he should hide him away now or if he could do it later. “No, seriously, what is it?”

“Why the disbelief, Cap?” she asked, smirking in great amusement. Steve leveled her a look, and she humphed. “Well, everyone’s got a story to tell about your station, and I wanted one too.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up in incredulity and then drew together in disapproval.

“So you started up a fight, got yourself scratched up, then got yourself arrested just so that you could have a story to tell about my station?”

“Well…” she trailed off, and looked away. She didn’t fidget, but that was only because she had better control than that. 

Steve stared at her for a long moment, then, with sudden realization, said, “Oh my God.” Sam, Natasha, his perp, and the rest of the now reactivated station stared at him in bemusement. Steve ignored them and dug out his phone, dialing a number he didn’t even have to think about. There was a familiar ‘what’s up, babe?’ on the other line before Steve wailed, “I’m a parent! Oh my God, Tony. Tony, we’re parents!”

“ _What_?” came Tony’s startled and horrified reply. “What, Steve--What? I didn’t--You… I--What?”

“I cannot _believe_ Fury put me in a position where I have to parent four clearly _insane_ teenagers! I have no idea how to be a goddamn parent! Why would he do this to me?”

“Steve. Honey? I am confused. I am very, very confused. What the hell are you talking about?” Tony asked.

“Natasha was arrested today for participating in a _bar fight_ because she wanted a _story to tell about the station_!” Steve exclaimed. To Natasha, he demanded, “What even _is_ that? Are you twelve?!” Sam and Natasha’s confusion had turned to amusement, and Natasha hid her laughs behind a hand. Steve jabbed a finger in her direction, but Tony was also laughing on the other end of the line. “Tony! Stop laughing and talk to her!”

“I was--Oh, Steve, I was joking when I said that, but… but--Oh god, we _are_ parents!” He cackled madly. “Well, you are, and I’m just kind of along for the ride, but--Oh darling, why didn’t you tell me you had four teenage kids before we started dating?”

“Oh shut up. They are not mine. You only say they are when they’re in trouble,” Steve snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

Tony’s laughter finally died out, and between a couple of chuckles, he said, “Don’t worry, darling, I already took care of the bar. You just do your cop thing and slap her with community service or something and--”

“Wait,” Steve interrupted. “You already knew about this?”

Silence.

“Well…” Tony hedged.

“He was there,” Natasha volunteered, and Steve’s jaw dropped.

“Rat!” Tony yelled in Steve’s ear, loud enough for Natasha to hear.

“Sorry, Stark. Gotta do what I gotta do,” Natasha answered flippantly. She flicked her hair and tossed her handcuffs to Michaels who stared at it in surprise; he hadn’t released her yet. Then she blew him a kiss and walked out the door.

Steve let out a huge huff of breath. He didn’t stop her, though, because he knew how to choose his battles. He’ll let Phil order her to community service. 

Speaking of which.

“Tony?”

“Yes, Stevie, honey, light of my life?” Steve snorted, and Tony sighed. “Community service?” he asked with resignation.

“Tomorrow, sweetheart. Bright and early,” Steve answered, syrupy sweet with smug satisfaction.


	5. Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more to go. I'm sure you can guess who that is. It's not yet written, though, so it might take a bit ^^
> 
> Hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

Steve had been expecting it, to be completely honest.

After Natasha, Steve knew there was no way he was getting away without collecting the entire set. What honestly surprised him was the fact that Tony was the _last_ to be arrested. I mean, he was practically responsible for _all_ of them getting arrested (he denied Thor's, but Steve suspected Tony had something to do with it after Thor mentioned how Tony 'enlightened him to the arts of Midgard'), so to come _after_ Natasha was odd.

Nevertheless, Steve couldn't say he was all that surprised to find himself staring at his boyfriend through the station's holding cell on an unassuming midday Thursday.

And for petty _fucking_ theft at that. Oh, the irony.

"You're a _billionaire_ , Tony," he pointed out unnecessarily from the other side of the bars. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his mouth was pressed into a deep frown so that he didn't laugh in the older man's face.

To be fair, Tony did look properly chastised, but Steve knew it had more to do with how he'd not had a decent wink of sleep in three days.

"I tried to pay him," Tony muttered with all the demeanour of a four year old who _knew_ what he'd done wrong but was trying to deny it nevertheless. "Wasn't my fucking fault I forgot my goddamned wallet."

Steve barked a laugh. "And who's fault is that?" he asked with unfeigned incredulity.

"I blame Barton and Jarvis," Tony declared without hesitation. His defiance was endearing, Steve had to admit. "That rat bastard saw me stumbling out of the workshop looking for a Gatorade. He could have stopped me, could have given me one, said 'Hey, Stark, I appreciate the three days you've been working on our weapons. Here, have a drink.' But no, the fuckface _hid all the goddamned drinks_ and _watched_ as I left to go buy some _without my goddamned wallet_! And Jarvis! He and Barton are conspiring, I'm sure of it! He's becoming too overly fond of that idiot and his pranks. He'll probably need a complete rewrite."

"No, Tony," Steve said with well-practised ease. "You aren't going to rewrite Jarvis's code."

"He likes Barton better than me! If that isn't a sign of brain damage, I don't know what is!"

Steve laughed. "He doesn't like Barton better than you, Tony. You left the house ignoring his warnings, left your keys, your wallet, and your phone, somehow stumbled into the _one convenience shop in New York whose cashier barely speaks English_ \--and no really, how did you even get that far? There's a shop right on the corner of our street!" Tony muttered a 'didn't see' that Steve wouldn't have heard without his supersoldier hearing. "You grabbed a Gatorade, chugged it down, and attempted to leave without paying."

"I was sleep deprived!" Tony wailed. "I can't be held accountable for my actions when I'm on two hours of sleep in the last seventy two! And I tried to pay him back, but I _didn't have my wallet_ and he didn't know who I was!"

"He was fresh from Somalia, Tony. Not _everyone_ in the world knows who you are," Steve answered with a roll of his eyes. "Maybe this'll teach you to have more than two hours' sleep in seventy two." Then he teased, "And maybe wash up and change your clothes before you leave the house so you don't look like a thieving hobo?"

"This is your fault too, you know," Tony muttered once more with a childish countenance.

Steve gaped at him. "My fault?" he demanded with an incredulous laugh. " _My_ fault! How in the world is this _my fault_?"

Tony pursed his lips in a way that he'd _deny to the death_ was a pout. "Was waiting for you to come get me," he answered.

Steve melted. "Aw, honey," he cooed. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird in his chest, and he didn't care who thought he was a total sap. "You've been talking for _weeks_ about how important those upgrades are for our next mission. I didn't want to keep you from doing something important when you've only just found the time to do it."

"Yeah, well. I still say you're partly to blame."

Steve laughed once more. "Well, we've settled your bill with the shop, but unfortunately, you'll still have to stay here the night."

"What?!" Tony exclaimed. "Steve, no! Steve, you have to get me out of here! Iron bars aren't good for my complexion!"

"They're steel," Steve pointed out flatly. "And I'm sure your complexion will survive, _Iron Man_."

Tony gasped in grave offense. "My suit is made from a complex and custom blend of gold and titanium, you heathen, and _you know it_."

Steve's humor was hidden with a roll of his eyes. "Goodbye, Tony," he said instead and turned to wade into the throng of amused onlookers.

"Steve!" Tony wailed. "Steve, I'm too pretty to be in here! They're going to turn me into their prison bitch, I'm sure of it! I can see it in their eyes!"

Steve barked a loud laugh and turned to the men in the cell with Tony. "Which one of you is looking to turn _my boyfriend_ into his prison bitch?" Each one of them looked even more terrified than the last, so Steve turned a pointed look at Tony. "Really, Tony. You're being ridiculous. It's just one night, and you could do with the sleep."

"Here?! But Steve, it's hard and cold!"

"Remember the time you fell asleep _on top_ of the tools on your workbench and missed the call to Assemble?" Steve asked, his eyebrows lifted. "Yeah. I thought so."

"Would a bribe help?" Tony asked switching tracks once more. "I have it on good authority that I give _fantastic_ head."

Steve's laugh was uproarious. " _No_ , Tony. A bribe would most _definitely_ not help you in this situation." Then thoughtfully, he added, "No matter that you do give fantastic head." He reached into the cell to pull Tony close and press a kiss to his forehead through the bars. "Get some sleep. I'll just be out here if you need me."

"I need you," Tony said, a full-on pout on his face. It was adorable, and his words delightful, so Steve tilted his head up and kissed his mouth, ignoring the catcalls and cheers of the spectators around them.

When he pulled back, he brushed a thumb over Tony's cheekbone with an affection that needn't be feigned and whispered with a tenderness that was, "You're still not getting out, sweetheart."


End file.
